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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698228">Scattered prism</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans'>Subtle_Shenanigans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We play our parts [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Balto - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Balto basically speaks a different canine dialect, Balto rewrite, Canon Divergence, Gen, I did some vague research for later parts, I don’t think I’ll be touching on romance anytime soon, Language doesn’t work quite right, Like, Prejudice views, Sickness, Wolfdog, amongst animals, and Balto is socially inept being an outcast and all, and he’s not afraid of human things because he’s a dog, balto Is clever because he’s a wolf, because rip her instincts don’t let her trust him yet, bit different terminology and accents, broken glass, but like, do not repost to another site, eith Jenna and Balto, etc - Freeform, hes not aware he’s socially inept, it starts, its all over the place, no beta we die like Unus Annus, not completely diff languages, so like American versus British English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:29:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While wary of the wolf, Jenna is one of the few who also sees the dog. Playful in nature, and clever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We play our parts [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scattered prism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So the movie will have certain scenes cut out. Also, some of the views from dogs and humans is supposed to be similar in nature to those in White Fang by Jack London. Hence the weird way I go about things XD.</p><p>Togo will get his own introductory chapter soon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Balto doesn’t often <em>sneak</em> into town, but when he does it’s always at night.</p><p>    He trots down cold, silent alleyways - his vision sharp in the dark. He likes to frisk and play, smelling the scents of the day.</p><p>    But his favourite place is under an old boiler room. It’s warm and cozy, and he can see humans through the cracks. It’s fun to watch them doing their odd, human things. Hearing their strange speech. Like dogs, there’s a few words here and there that he can understand - things he recognizes as sounds for objects or people. <br/>  <br/>   Sometimes he slips under the houses, but generally he goes for the boiler room. Even if he sees less people than the houses. Because under there is some junk he’s hidden away, that he noses and paws at. Old shoes and fabrics and some shards of glass; it’s actually the glass he’s most interested in, with strength and fragility like ice but in strange colors. He likes to play with it in arrangements, and then let lantern light hit it.</p><p>    It makes him feel clever, creating his own borealis.</p><p>    (Boris told him, once, that snow geese were unashamedly nosy; they knew many animals’ stories, and the consensus was that the foxes - Cubs of Vulp - ha something to do with the Northern Lights. They called it Vulpine Fire, in their stories.</p><p>    Balto called it a colored howl, or Song of Boreal. He supposed to each their own.)</p><p>    So he is on his way to the old boiler room, ruffling his pelt to keep out the cold, when he catches a scent.</p><p>    He whines, in a beckoning, confused sort of way, tilting his head and perking his ears. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was Jenna’s scent.</p><p>    And she steps out of the shadow of a building, no sly grace like Balto himself has. She’s a distance away, just shy of polite. She seems wary, but determined.</p><p>    “Balto.” It’s soft, quiet. “Can you come with me? I need. . .there’s something going on. That I don’t understand.”</p><p>    He’s never had someone approach him before; he’s reasonably taken aback.</p><p>    “Why?” It’s blunt, and he’s hoping he didn’t edge a growl in there; he can’t exactly control the gravelly sound of his voice.</p><p>   But she doesn’t step back, just tilts her head to beckon. “You might have more of an idea than me, since you’re. . .”</p><p>    . . . <em>not a dog</em>. She doesn’t even have to say. He shrugs and follows, stopping himself from going into a trot. He doesn’t want to overtake her, or make her uncomfortable.</p><p>    Whisking her tail, Jenna leads him to one of the few buildings still lit up. She goes right up to the window, standing with her paws on the sill. She watches him, her eyes wary. But she nods so he comes next to her and hefts his paws up to look.</p><p>    Everything is yellow lit from the lantern; inside he sees Rosie, Jenna’s girl, and Rosie’s parents. Another human, one he vaguely recognizes as the town’s <em>doctor</em> (some sort of helper? He helps those sick or hurt, he understands) is saying something while prodding the girl. Balto watches closely; fingers press against the girl’s throat, and neck; she’s wheezing, and sweaty; a raucous cough will shake her frame; the parents-</p><p>    Something Balto has come to understand, is humans show fear backwards. While an animal will snarl and show their teeth, they instead droop, curl up; the flesh of their mouths drooping even as they speak. Unless it’s anger-fear, and even then only the aggressive kind, do they show their teeth.</p><p>   So the parents are afraid. The doctor is afraid. The girl is sick.</p><p>    If only he could get in, he could maybe catch a whiff. Perhaps tell what kind. But that will never happen.</p><p>    “She’s been warm at night,” Jenna says. He was staring into the window, ramrod straight. “And barks these coughs that sound all wrong. Her throat has been swollen.” She sighs. “She’s not the only one. All of the children have been like this, and some of the adults.”</p><p>    He flicks an ear to show he heard. He watches them move, and then jumps down. “What are you-“</p><p>   “I’m going underneath,” he says. “To see if I can hear what they’re saying.”</p><p>    Jenna is standing stiff-legged, fur bristled. “Do you. . .think you can understand them.”</p><p>    He shrugs. “I understand some. If I hear enough, maybe I’ll know what’s going on.” He trots over to where the wood lifts from the snowy ground, and squeezes himself under; Boris used to joke he was a cat.</p><p>    By time he finds a good place - feet creak the floorboards and he can hear their chatter filter through - the doctor is already going on about the sickness.</p><p>    He starts when Jenna’s pelt brushes against his, and he gives her a questioning tilt of his head, but immediately goes back to focusing overhead.</p><p>    It’s hard to catch, and even harder to understand; but certain things stick out - <em>how the heck do their flat muzzles move around any of those sounds?</em> - and he starts to get an idea.</p><p>    And Jenna has the patience of winter. He can smell her fear scent, and hear her shift constantly, but she doesn’t press.</p><p>    It’s not until after Rosie and her family leave - even then, some time is taken to think.</p><p>    “She’s sick.” Balto looks at his paws, brow furrowed. “She’s sick, I’m sure you already know.” He looks up at her and she doesn’t look away. “The helper thinks it’s bad - really, really bad. Spreading too fast. And it’s a harsh sickness. It. . .” He tilts his head and squints his eyes while he thinks of how to explain. “It . . .kills. Fast. But not right away. He has. . .stuff that can help? But it’s, gone bad? Rotten.” He nods decisively at this. “It can’t help. But he will try to get someone to bring more that is fresh. He’s going to tell them to bring it fast.” </p><p>    He looks to Jenna and she’s trembling; her head low, a whine in her throat. He lifts a paw, but puts it back down. He knows not to get too close to a dog that’s not all there.</p><p>    (Even the ones all there are unapproachable.)</p><p>    When she calms, and no longer seems about to collapse, she nods. “Okay, so she could die, but not right away. Not if they get the medicine.”</p><p>    Oh, <em>medicine</em>. Dog adapted human word.</p><p>    “Thank you, Balto,” her eyes flicker to meet his. Her whiskers twitch in a vague smile. “Really, thank you. I. . .should get home.”</p><p>    Balto follows her out from under the house, and stretches each leg, each paw, his toes. He shakes himself.</p><p>   He gives her a nod. “It’s no problem. I really do hope they get the . . .midcin? soon.” He looks sadly at the window. “Pups don’t deserve to die.”</p><p>    He feels a cold nose tap his head, but by time he’s turned she’s whisked off into the night, and the light snowfall.</p><p>    He heads home.</p>
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